Today's poet

[stevefoster]

ha ha...eee you're reet but it doesn't rhyme with night! (or should that be neet?).

It's neet, teet and reet................... alreet
Seeing stars meself now, neet all

Oh stars oh stars

Oh stars
oh stars
so bright
shine your light.

Oh stars
oh stars
so bright
unleash heaven's might.

Oh stars
oh stars
so bright
bring peace upon our worldly fight.

Oh stars
oh stars
so bright
bring me much delight.

nitsujt renrut

[Hes]

Nice one Merry!
Sleep well...like a big in a rug! (my mum used to say that)

[Hes]

Survivor

Everyday,
I think about dying.
About disease, starvation,
violence, terrorism, war,
the end of the world.

It helps
keep my mind off things.

Roger McGough

[Hes]

The time I like best is 6am
when the snow is 6 inches deep
which I'm yet to discover
'cause I'm under the covers
fast, fast asleep.

Roger McGough

[stevefoster]

Personally i'm doing 1 a month leading up to The Round Rotherham in October which is 50 miles.

No injuries this year Matt, build steadily, run within yourself and finish with a smile.............and a beer of course

[stevefoster]

Nice one Merry!
Sleep well...like a big in a rug! (my mum used to say that)

Mine used to say like a bug in a rig, mum's and spelling eh

[Hes]

No injuries this year Matt, build steadily, run within yourself and finish with a smile.............and a beer of course

That is very good advice, especially the beer bit. I'm going to be a bit more careful this year about overdoing it and try to train and race steadily. Right, am off to bed.

goodnight sleep tight, mind the bed bugs don't bite!

[Stolly]

Survivor

Everyday,
I think about dying.
About disease, starvation,
violence, terrorism, war,
the end of the world.

It helps
keep my mind off things.

Roger McGough

Love it

[Hes]

Running to Discover

My bruised mind,
battered by the chaos of India,
finds solace in the stillness of home.
Running through the dimming light
the fog hides and transforms
the once familiar trees and hedges.
An air pregnant with possibility
gives birth to startling sounds.
The squawk of a disgruntled guinea fowl
as my bouncing torch beam
picks out its sleeping form.
A low mournful bellow,
milk-swollen and patient,
the cows await their master.
Sulphurous light spills from the barn
where the strains of a violin
drift away in the mist.
The sullen farmer’s melancholic choice,
surprising and beautiful,
makes me wonder.
My ears ring with the sounds of the wind
and my heartbeat as I ascend.
Gritty, muddy footfalls splashing up the hill.
A clattering in the branches
as a pheasant takes fright.
Below the bridge a torrent rages
the stream now a river,
gorged by the thaw.
Nearing home and
the unfamiliar shape ahead turns
revealing a winter-weary mare
She lowers her head
as we both discover
Who I am.

[freckle]

young freckle was up late at night
instead of in bed sleeping tight
although feeling peeky
she still could be cheeky
and her poems are more than alright

Aw I love this Hes thanks and for yours too Merry!